A.N. It is worth mentioning that if not for the three (absolutely wonderful) reviews I received today, this update wouldn't be up for a few more days…not 'cause I'm sadistic and I need reviews or I won't update, but just 'cause they remind me to stop stalling and start writing. ;P

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

Chapter Three: Avenger's Initiative

"I'm sorry, but I just can't seem to remember…did you have a backpack with you when you came in?"

"A backpack?" Robin asked innocently. "No. Why?" Even as he said this, he glanced surreptitiously towards the base of the gurney where his bag lay concealed. It wouldn't do for anyone to start poking around in it, after all. So when he had discovered, to his surprise and delight, that no one had yet bothered to examine either it or the contents, he had wasted no time in deleting its existence from the hospital records and stealing it from the storage room where it had been hastily put upon his admittance to the hospital. Which brought him to where he was now—shamelessly lying to Dr. Madalon's face. The poor man looked so confused.

"I could have sworn…" the doctor scratched his head in bewilderment. He spent a few more moments in frustration as Robin looked on, then seemed to give up on figuring it out and turned his attention to Robin. "Well, anyway…how are you feeling? Is there anything I can get for you?"

Robin shook his head. "No, thank you," he said politely, plastering a fake smile across his face, a wasted effort; the doctor was looking at his watch.

"Mr. Rogers should be here soon," he said nervously. Robin was suddenly and strongly reminded of the Mad Hatter, who often said much the same thing about Alice.

Robin sighed, pulling lightly at his restraints. As was evidently decreed by hospital policy, whenever a patient was being transferred from one institution to another, they must be transported via ambulance, and thus, gurney. Tying them down (loosely, but still) was just standard procedure. Although this was inconvenient, not to mention uncomfortable in more ways than one, Robin was glad of it, as it was helping him smuggle his backpack out of the hospital.

He still wasn't sure what to expect at his ultimate destination, but hopefully they wouldn't search him there. He'd done some research while looking the hospital records. Apparently heroes were relatively new here. Excepting Captain America, who was apparently much older than he looked, this world's first superhero, and was once a soldier, they had all shown up within the past year and come together as a team just a few weeks ago. Robin was counting on their lack of experience and his own young age to keep them from getting too suspicious.

He ran through the list of heroes again in his head. There was Iron Man (not-so-secret identity Tony Stark), the leader and financial supporter of the team. Black Widow, who he could find almost nothing about (the fact that he had no idea where to look didn't help) except that she dressed in black and looked like a freaking assassin, Hawkeye (a pink and purple Green Arrow rip-off), Bruce Banner, a totally genius scientist that despite himself Robin was anxious to meet, and Thor, some sort of magic-alien-person-thing with lightning and a hammer.

All in all, not a bad combination of people and powers. But inexperienced; from what Robin had read, they had only just started living together in something called Avengers Tower (presumably, this was the place Captain America had been referring to). Before that, it looked like the city had had to wait for help every time there was a crisis for their heroes to get their act together and defend them.

Judging from how painfully amateur they still were, Robin doubted that any of them would think to search him, especially since the hospital already had—albeit badly. With that in mind, Robin reached down carefully, easing his backpack free and slipping it under the blanket with himself. He glanced out the window; it was only six p.m., but the sky was already darkening.

In the hospital lobby, Thor and Natasha waited quietly. Both of them were bored out of their minds, something that Natasha hid better than her Asgardian friend. Neither had expected the exorbitant amount of paperwork Steve would have to fill out, though, to be fair, neither had Steve, or he would have warned them. Hiding his annoyance and growing irritation behind another forced smile, he handed the papers back to the lady behind the desk and sighed quietly in relief when she said that that was the last of it. Behind him, Thor and Black Widow stood.

"Finally," Thor grumbled. "Are all Midgardian medical faculties this inefficient?"

"Most of them," Natasha told him.

Together they trailed after a nurse. She was chattering and beaming at them in turns (mostly at Captain America), but they were only half-listening.

She stopped abruptly and gestured towards a half-opened door. "He's in there," she averred, smiling. "I think Dr. Madalon should still be with him." She stood back to admit them, and turned back to the front desk.

Black Widow entered first, so silently that Dr. Madalon yelped when he noticed her. But there was no reaction from the boy lying still on the gurney behind him.

John had black hair. That was the first thing she noticed about him. And it was really black, too, not just brunette. His face was tilted away, his features still and peaceful. His body (small and compact) was covered with a thin, blue hospital blanket, over which his arms lay loose at his sides.

"He's asleep," she said quietly to Steve and Thor as they entered.

"You did not mention how…small he is," Thor sounded almost disappointed, but there was a touch of alarm in his voice. Natasha knew that he had not expected Jonathon to be as young (and thus, vulnerable) as he was.

Steve had been talking to the doctor. Now he turned to them, struggling—mostly unsuccessfully—to hide his aggravation. "One of us is going to have to go with him in the ambulance," he said. Natasha understood his irritation to mean that the doctor wasn't going to let them take John in their car and skip the whole hospital escort thing.

"I'll go," Natasha volunteered, quickly. Even after a few months on 'Midgard', Thor still didn't understand much of their culture, and she wasn't sure he could be trusted to behave in something as visually stimulating as an ambulance. With their luck, he'd probably end up breaking something—most likely the whole van. Steve would be the best choice, really, since he had already met John, but Natasha's S.H.I.E.L.D. training was screaming at her to assess, and, if necessary, neutralize the possible threat (young as he may be) before he was admitted to the Avengers Tower.

No one argued, and so, forty five minutes later (seriously, could the hospital have gone any slower? Even Captain America—Mr. Manners himself—had looked ready to hit somebody), Natasha found herself in the back of a medical transport vehicle (also known as an ambulance), watching Johnathon's gurney get secured. Jonathon was still asleep, mostly owing to Thor growling at the medical personal ('By all the gods, be quiet and let him sleep. An ice giant makes less noise than you,') to shut up.

Because they were well-known, respected heroes, the hospital hadn't seen a need to post any of their own personnel in the back with her, though one of their own drivers would be in the front seat. Steve and Thor would be leading the way in Steve's car.

She had been hoping the kid would stay asleep at least until they got to the tower, but as the ambulance pulled out of the parking lot, he stirred and opened his eyes. Despite herself, Natasha couldn't help but raise her eyebrows. His eyes were incredible. They were slightly angled, with the exotic look of something from across the seas. Just from the shape, she'd have guessed the irises to be a deep brown, but they were striking, dark blue instead. And unless she was (not likely) missing something, they were completely natural. If he was wearing contacts, she couldn't see them.

John pushed himself up a little and looked around in confusion. He hadn't spotted Natasha yet, hidden as she was behind him and in the shadows. "…Bruce?" he said, uncertainty and trepidation thick in his voice. She watched him start to sit up, undoing or loosening the already lax straps tying him down.

"Sorry kid," she said, and she had to give him credit for not jumping or flinching at all like most people would. He turned to focus on her; she took a step into the light to make it easier. "It's just me."

There was, she thought, an unnecessarily long pause before John spoke. "Black Widow?" he asked, and she nodded.

"The one and only. You wanna tell me who Bruce is?"

He blinked up at her once or twice and didn't answer, instead shrinking away and looking down at the blanket draped across his legs.

She watched him for a moment, noting the way he had accepted her presence without question, as if it were perfectly natural, and didn't seem to be afraid or wary of her. But, he still refused to meet her eyes and his shoulders were tense. Steve hadn't mentioned whether or not the kid had known beforehand that he was going to be staying at the Avengers Tower, but judging from Jonathon's behavior, he had. And yet…the kid didn't seem to care about it, one way or another. He'd only just woken up, but already she could see that he wasn't excited about it—as she imagined most people would be—but wasn't guilty, either. Usually the only reason people weren't happy to visit with their heroes was if they were criminals or had a guilty conscience, neither of which applied to this kid.

Steve was right. This kid was strange.

"Were you hoping for the Hulk, or someone else?" she frowned when he didn't immediately answer her. "Hey, kid, talk to me."

"Someone else," he admitted. He paused, then added, so low she had to strain to hear it, "No one important. Just a…friend of mine."

"A friend, huh?" she studied him, unconvinced. "B.S. He your Dad or something?"

That got a reaction. Jonathon's head came up and his mouth opened indignantly, but he caught himself and looked down again before he could say anything. He shrugged.

Natasha was briefly reminded of herself at that age, and scowled. "Hey," she said impulsively, "Have you ever met anyone from S.H.I.E.L.D. before?"

"Shield?" Jonathon asked, and met her eyes. She could see honest curiosity in his expression, which unnerved her, just a little. Who in New York didn't know what S.H.I.E.L.D. was? "No. What's that?"…this kid, apparently. Natasha didn't answer him immediately, busy as she was scrutinizing the minute shifts and changes in his body language. When she was satisfied that he was telling the truth, and (somehow) did not know what S.H.I.E.L.D. was (seriously, how could be not know? Was he new to America or something? Lived underneath a rock his whole life?) she looked at him and smiled, though that was more to cover her rapidly moving thoughts than anything else.

"It's an organization dedicated to the safety and protection of American citizens."

John thought about this. "So…do the Avengers work for S.H.I.E.L.D.? And SHIELD is an acronym, right? What does it stand for?"

"Yes, we do," Natasha told him, choosing not to mention that while it was officially true, Tony could and often did defy S.H.I.E.L.D. if it suited his own purposes. "S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

John considered that. Glancing out the back windows, Natasha saw that they were only a few streets away from the Tower. "Almost there, kid," she informed him. He straightened just a little bit to better see outside the van, looking suddenly nervous. Natasha watched him from the corner of her eye as he took several deep breaths, discreetly calming himself down. She had just met this kid, but something about him seemed familiar. She couldn't help but like him. Suddenly, Natasha found herself hoping that Steve was wrong—about the scars, about everything. A kid like this shouldn't have secrets.

But no matter what should be, it didn't change what was, and she knew that whatever he had been trained for, and he had been trained (he held himself with too much confidence, his every movement was just too deliberate, for him not have been), he was holding back something big. Years of intense training had instilled in her a sort of intuition when it came to things like this, and she could tell—she just knew—that his secrets, whatever they were, were dark. Some of them were probably dangerous. Tell-and-somebody-will-die kind of dangerous.

The sort of secrets that she herself had plenty of.

The ambulance pulled to a halt, and Natasha opened the back doors. "Welcome to the Avengers Tower," she murmured. "Your new, if only temporary, home."

Steve's car slid past them and parked. Natasha was already starting to maneuver John out of the ambulance. Their driver hurried to join her, and together they set his gurney down just as Thor and Steve strode up.

"Greetings, young one!" Thor exclaimed the moment he saw that John was awake. "I am Thor Odinsson. Pray, what is thy name?"

It was a full three seconds before John responded, startled as he was both by Thor's strange way of speaking and exuberant demeanor. Natasha hid a smile. She had the same the reaction the first time she met her Asgardian teammate.

"…Jonathon, but you can call me John," he answered finally.

"So how should we do this…" Steve considered. "I think we actually have to take you inside before we can get you off that gurney."

With the help of the ambulance driver, Steve wheeled Jonathon inside and started undoing the straps. John brushed away his help and slipped nimbly out to land neatly on the floor. Natasha noticed him quietly slide on a backpack that he must have been concealing under the blanket. She raised one eyebrow almost admiringly. This kid was good.

"Alright, it's pretty late, so I'm just show you to your room, and then you can see some more of the Tower tomorrow," Steve whispered. He hadn't noticed John first slip on the backpack, but as he led him down the hallway Black Widow saw him catch sight of it and frown. He didn't say anything however, and she and Thor left for their own rooms a moment later.

"Mr. Fury, sir? The results have just come in. It doesn't look like Hydra."

"What about the other possibilities I mentioned?"

"No, sir. Negative on all counts."

"Then what is it?"

"We…don't know, sir. The closest approximation to what we're seeing is Morgan le Fay's abilities, but even those don't completely match."

"…"

"Sir?"

"Send me everything you've got. And then…call the Avengers. Tell them…tell them we may have an emergency."

"Yes, sir."

A.N. Sorry for the shortness; hopefully the next chapter will make up for it. And yes, Robin was awake and then suddenly fell asleep without explanation. That was not a continuity glitch; that was on purpose and shall be explained either in the next chapter or the one after.

This is not actually a Robin-centric fic; in the next few chapters we'll start focusing more on his teammates. Starting with Superboy. :) Although, I must admit that Robin is my favorite, so we're gonna be lingering on him for a bit….Also, in answer to one of the reviews, yes the two universes—Marvel and DC—will remain separate.

I am hoping I shall not disappoint any of you…so far, all the reviews have been so kind, I'm honestly kind of scared of messing something up. X( But I shall do my best. I have big plans for this fic…

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, and I will endeavor to update again soon.